


RIP (My Heart Out)

by goodlivin2u



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Everybody Dies, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, POV Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodlivin2u/pseuds/goodlivin2u
Summary: Dean thinks about all the people who have died for him, risked their lives, or sacrificed for him. And now they're all dead because of him.Dean gets drunk (what's new?) and his thoughts spiral. He wants to die instead of living with this guilt, but he can't take that last leap.





	RIP (My Heart Out)

**Author's Note:**

> This was an 'April 1st challenge' from the All Things Destiel and Cockles Facebook group. We were supposed to do the opposite of what we were good at, so if we were a writer, we drew. If we were an artist, we wrote. I wrote this drabble that accompanied an artwork, but either one can be stand-alone!
> 
> I was given the prompt: "And maybe in the end, I was meant to be alone." It was a doubly perfect challenge because I don't write angst or sadness that often. But, my god! Rip my heart out, why don't you? It would hurt less than this.

On quiet nights, Dean would take Baby out for a drive. He’d always end up at the same place, though: the wide expanse of land behind the bunker, far as the eyes could see. Dean supposed the land was magical, much like the house was.

Although he burned the bones of most of his friends when they died (thereby leaving nothing behind), he still thought it was proper to create memorials. The tombstones covering the land didn’t appear overnight. Even when Sammy and Cas were still alive, sometimes he would take a few hours on slow days and go out back to choose a spot for his loved ones, even if it meant just tending the few flowers there. Nothing really stayed alive there for long, though, which I guess is how it was supposed to be.

There must have been at least 30 plots now, all of friends and family, and even of those less-than-lovable enemies that were crucial to the Winchester legacy (like Meg, Ruby, Crowley, and Metatron).

Most of those deaths were caused by Dean, even if it was indirectly. They all tried to save him, believed in him, and sacrificed everything for him. He wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t be saved. Eventually, anyone he got close to would end up dead. These 30 graves are proof enough of that.

Because of this, he didn’t go into town or interact with people much. He _certainly_ didn’t take bi-weekly drives to his childhood home three hours away and sit in his car across the street with a six-pack of beer. Oh no, that never happened (it did – all the time). He thought that maybe if he just went there one more time, he’d figure out what went wrong and how this all happened. Why was he the only one left alive from that night now?

He’d ask these questions, beg someone to hear him, sometimes screaming his voice raw from emotion. But no answers came. There was just silence, and that was worse than anything.

Once upon a time, the angels, demons, reapers, even God himself, said that they needed him and that’s why he couldn’t die. But that was bullshit. He wasn’t needed for some higher purpose – he was just a puppet that they loved to watch suffer. Dean’s grown angry and bitter over the years, much like his father used to be. _Isn’t that a laugh_ , he thought? _Spent my whole life trying to not be like Dad, only to end up here as drunk and alone as he was._ He’d always end up here.

Even Death himself gave up long before Dean did. That alone should be cause for concern about the state of affairs. Dean killed everyone he knew and loved, and his punishment was to replay their deaths in his mind for the rest of eternity.

In his drunken state, he’d admit that the past was more of a home to him than Baby ever was. Doesn’t that thought hurt? Baby – his pride and joy – was just another reminder of how he’s screwed up. He shouldn’t be allowed to drive her. Dad would be so ashamed and disappointed. He’d yell at Dean, maybe knock him around a couple times. Dean wouldn’t even fight back at this point. He deserved it, would even welcome that punishment over this solitary one. Because bruises fade and bones heal, but you can’t run from your own thoughts.

Dean’s tried to pull the trigger more than once. Multiple times, actually. But he couldn’t ever bring himself to do it. He’s such a coward that he can’t even do what he needs to do anymore. He needs to die. He wants to die. But he can’t, and _that’s_ what he must live with. Life versus death – the ultimate universal theme. He’s an expert on it by now.

And so he sits here, drunk at 3am, watching over his friends in their final resting place. He’s ran his fingers over their names so many times that he knows the tombstone by touch alone now.

The trees never grow leaves. Their roots and branches just gnarl even more with each passing day. They’ve grown into ugly masses. Dean doesn’t need mirrors anymore – he can just look outside to see what a mess he is.

Sure, he’s saved countless lives, but none that were important to him.

_Let this be a cautionary tale_ , he thinks, _to anyone who wants to “save the world.” Don’t do it. You’ll be the only one celebrating your successes._ He raises his beer bottle. _Let’s drink to that!_


End file.
